Baked Goods
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Inspired by a friend's artwork of the Twelfth Doctor as a Red Velvet Cupcake, and Clara Oswald as a Cinnamon Roll.


Clara supposed it was that she'd gotten used to the Eleventh – it was rare she saw him outside of his plum colored suit and bowtie – so she didn't think the Doctor changed much out of whatever the current incarnation's routine outfit was. Except the Twelfth seemed to enjoy the occasional change in attire. She smiled involuntarily whenever the pristine white dress shirt was swapped out for the holey black jumper and she knew she'd gazed for far too long when he'd smoothed the fabric at the collar of a purple button up.

She'd even taken to jokingly encouraging him. "Try to look more human, Doctor. The more you fit in, the easier you'll… we'll… if people like you, they'll want to talk to you – you won't have to use the psychic paper and lie to them to get answers."

"Why would I want to do that?" He'd asked with a shake of his head, oblivious, as usual.

Groaning, Clara had simply walked towards him and tugged on the lapels of his coat before walking back towards her room on the Tardis to look at her own clothes. There were the styles of too many eras to count now in her closet. How could she not take a sampling here and there, a remembrance for their travels… she knew one day it had to wind to an end, though she chose not to think about it.

Instead she plucked out a mustard colored turtleneck and a green striped dress and changed because they were going out. Where? He wasn't quite certain – the Doctor never really was – but they were going on an adventure and she was going to look fabulous. She was also going to end up soaking wet in an underwater base, but she looked _fabulous_.

They started to sort of meet in the middle – her looking less and less like an ordinary human, just a little more spacey, a little more timeless; him looking more and more like a regular ol' bloke, just a bit more raggedy, a bit more conventional – and Clara thought it suited them. Some awkward mix of strange and normal she knew would never blend in anywhere.

The thought brought an ironic laugh as she sifted through her closet looking for something new to wear and she snatched out a grey jumper and pulled it over her head, covering the top of a green spotted dress. "Ah," she called, reaching for her leather jacket. Just a bit hobo; just a bit chic.

"Lovely," the Doctor stated from the doorway before stammering, "At least I think it is, I'm not quite sure, you're the one with the expertise in the area of fashion – or so you're keen to remind."

She turned, ready to mock him, but she caught sight of the new jacket and gestured, "Where'd you get that?"

His hand waved at his midsection and he huffed, "This old thing?"

"Yes," she laughed, "That old thing."

For a moment he considered it, then he laughed and admitted, "Haven't the foggiest."

"You look like a red velvet cupcake," she teased.

He straightened and took a step towards her, telling her gruffly, "You're comparing me to baked goods now?"

Clara bridged the distance between them and she crooked a finger at him, waiting until he bent so she could quickly run her fingers lightly through his hair to sigh, "And the cream cheese frosting."

Her laughter echoed as she made her way through the Tardis, going towards the console to type into the keyboard there, looking up at the screen at the familiar circles and swirls dancing across it. She couldn't quite read it, but she could sense what it was saying – she often wondered if it were that way with the Doctor, but she never asked.

She could hear his footsteps approaching and she pressed her lips together tightly as she began to maneuver the Tardis, watching him side eye her as he found his comfortable spot at the main controls. He was thinking of a retort, she knew, and when he finally muttered the words, she found herself creasing her brow to ask roughly, "What did you just call me?"

The Doctor lifted his chin and repeated pointedly, "Cinnamon roll."

"You said _beautiful_ cinnamon roll."

"I was repeating nonsense," he spat.

"Repeating nonsense from _where_?" Clara questioned.

His hand gripped the screen and he gave it push, away from the both of them and Clara narrowed her eye at him, asking, "Have you been surfing the internet again?"

"Your friend Courtney gave me her Tumblr – she told me to _follow_ her. I wasn't sure what that meant," he grumbled, head bowing slightly as his cheeks went pink.

"You made a Tumblr," Clara laughed.

He pointed, "I _deleted_ it – it was foolish and there was a mass of misinformation and obviously it was for someone much younger than myself." His words blended together in a rush of syllables and Clara grinned as his brow continued to rise awkwardly in embarrassment before he frowned at her. Trying to regain his composure.

Clara made her way to the monitor and she brought it back around to a keyboard and she typed quickly as he rushed to her side just as she read, "Beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure." She glanced up at him as his arms crossed and his right hand came up to twist, palm pushing into his mouth. "Doctor, this has nothing to do with clothes."

The hand came away, lifting into the air as he sighed, "No, it doesn't." Then he reached to erase the entry from the screen and toss the monitor aside; to go back to pressing his buttons and pushing his levers so they could find a destination. She moved to his side slowly, smirk on her lips as she waited, and he finally told her, "Word association."

She nodded.

"You said Red Velvet Cupcakes, I thought Cinnamon Roll," he explained.

Clara pushed her bottom lip out, furrowing her brow as she questioned, "You thought of an internet meme to describe people and characters who need to be protected at all costs; you actually thought that was an appropriate response?"

He shrugged and then spat, "Would you have preferred I called you a Pistachio Milkshake?"

Releasing a long sigh, she nudged him and then smiled up at him, "Would you protect a Pistachio Milkshake at all costs?"

He managed to grin back at her, head shifting in contemplation before teasing, "Depends on how thirsty I am," and then telling her honestly, "If it were actually Clara Oswald, then yes – at all costs."

She giggled, shifting to look up at him as he watched her. Clara wasn't sure this particular Doctor was ever going to be anywhere near normal, but she was glad for the evolution happening between them. The casual conversations and the livelier moments where she felt maybe she was having a positive effect on him, even if he did look a little like an 80's rock star.

Reaching up to give his hair a small flick, she told him quietly, "Alright _Red Velvet_ , let's find a new planet."

He touched a palm to her cheek for just a moment, thumb brushing it just enough to rise a blush out of her, before replying playfully, "Whatever you say, _Cinnamon Roll_."


End file.
